Underground
by KnockturnSeller
Summary: A long series of sharp booms shook the London Underground station, then a huge roar of sound knocked them to the floor. The lights flashed off and the air was filled with grit.


UNDERGROUND

Intro: A long series of sharp booms shook the London Underground station, then a huge roar of sound knocked them to the floor. The lights flashed off and the air was filled with grit.

Head Cannon goes off. A sign flutters to the ground saying: I don't own Harry Potter but I do play in the Forbidden Forest.

London 1940

Marcus nervously looked around at the slightly damp tiles of the tube station with the rows of cots along the wall and sighed. "How long is this going to last?"

Bart said, "One lasted three hours or so but most everyone stays underground until daytime. It's safer down here. This is the London Blitz, my friend."

"If I could find an isolated spot I'd apparate out of here," Marcus said, leaning against the wall next to the tunnel leading away from the station.

Bart chuckled and said, "You'd scare the Muggles."

The ground rumbled a little with small, distant thumps coming to their ears.

"Still far away," Bart said.

"How do you stand it down here?" Marcus nervously asked. "Why not just leave when the air raid warning comes?"

"Neighbors," Bart answered and sighed. "I need to be seen as everyone else,  
that is, hiding down here and hoping it won't last long."

There were several sharp thumps that speckled dust from the tiles and brick above their heads.

"Closer," Bart said.

"How do the Muggles handle this? I've not disliked anything in my life as much as this," Marcus said, looking around the dimly lit station. "What I'd give for a portkey right now."

"People accustom themselves to whatever they must," Bart said. "Try to imagine a Muggle in Knockturn Alley. They'd think themselves mad until it became a new normal. Or try to think of people like me that live in Muggle society and only do magic at home where it can't be seen. It's how folks have always gotten along with their lives, no matter the time or place. Or war, for that matter. We adapt."

Another series of thumps, sharper and louder rumbled through the station,  
echoing through the long tunnel behind their backs. The lights flickered making Marcus shudder with his eyes darting about.

"I hope I never have to become used to this," he said.

"That last string, closer than before," Bart said with some anxiety. "They might be coming this way. Hope my shop is spared."

Marcus glanced around quickly, fearfully. "We're safe here, right?"

"As safe as can be," Bart said.

Just as he said that a long series of sharp booms shook the underground station,  
flickering the lights then a huge roar of sound knocked them to the floor. The lights flashed off and the air filled with grit.

Coughing, Marcus rolled and came up on all fours. "Bart. Bart! Where are you?"  
he called out. He couldn't see a thing and his voice sounded funny. Tinny and far away.

"Here," Bart answered. "I'm alright. My ears are ringing some."

"Some?" Marcus gasped out. "My head hurts and my butt hurts. Might have done something to my wrist also. What happened?"

Bart moved his hands along the bits of tile and sharp grit on the floor until he touched someone. "That you?"

"If you just touched my hand, yes it is. At least we're still alive," Marcus said.  
"This is why I don't come to London. Are we the only ones left down here?"

"Hello," Bart called out. "Who's here?"

Several voices answered him. He called back, "Remember, no matches or fire.  
Vapors and dust can explode. Anyone have a torch?"

A few mutters then a light came on, then another. "Thanks," Marcus said and looked around at a dozen frightened faces. "Anyone hurt? Anyone bleeding?"

More mutters and the sounds of people checking themselves. "I don't think so," a voice in the semi darkness said.

"Okay then. We're alive and well. Put that thought in front of your minds and be thankful for that much. Whoever has the torch, shine it around so we can see our situation," Marcus said. "Just like the warden told us last month. Take stock, be thankful, find your family, help your neighbors then go from there."

The beams from the torches shone around showing the wall behind them, tiles and bricks littering the floor, the west tunnel was intact then shone toward the rest of the station. There was a pile of rubble reaching the ceiling from where the stairs used to be blocking the east part of the platform and spilling out across the tracks, the dust in the air fogging the sight. Then one light went around the small area where they were huddled. A dozen sets of fearful eyes looked in his direction. One face had a streamer of blood running down one cheek.

"Okay. Someone put a bandage on that wound," and he pointed. "Anyone else hurt call out and someone take care of them. Right now we have plenty of air and the tunnel seems intact so we escape that way. What worries me is the people closer to the stairs and the people trapped on the other side of the rockfall. We need to get help."

A voice said, "Is there a phone in the tunnel?"

"Good point. When we are all taken care of we can use the torch to find out." Bart leaned close to Marcus and muttered quietly, "Settle them down, tell them they are going to be alright and they think they will be. Jobs next. Stops panic."

He turned back to the small group of people and said, "We are Englishmen."

"And Englishwomen," a high, clear voice said and there was a bit of nervous laughter.

"And Englishwomen," Bart said. "We are Londoners. We will not be defeated, we will not panic. We have tea and scones in the afternoon and the Union Jack tattooed on our hearts. We will do things orderly, thoughtfully, proper. First thing is for everyone to scoot toward the tracks so we can move into the tunnel. Help your neighbors and make sure everyone is able to move. Dust masks can be made by tearing a strip from a shirt or dress. Now, hold hands with a neighbor and move to sit on the edge of the platform."

The torches flicked around and there was the sound of people shuffling. "When everyone is ready, two men hop on down and get ready to help everyone else."

In a minute everyone was standing on the tracks, looking at Bart. "Anyone missing?"

"Oh god, my wife," came a voice. "She was visiting the Fletchers on the other side of ...," hesitated, choked up and pointed toward the wall of debris.

"First, we get to the phone and let the wardens know what is going on," Bart said.  
Then he muttered to himself, "Damn, damn, damn. Did he have children?" and looked at the mess that was the station and back at the group.

"We have to tell someone above we have people still down here. It's too big for us to do ourselves. We need to call to get rescue started." Bart gazed at Marcus and gave him a nod. "My friend and I will lead you down the tunnel until we find a phone. If not, the next station is about a mile. We can't get help standing here and we don't leave people behind. One torch at a time, save the other in case the first one's batteries die.  
Walk carefully in single file. Our duty is to get help for the others."

Slowly they walked along the tracks, hands touching the wall for guidance in the poor light of a single torch. It was only a hundred feet when someone called out,  
"Phone. There's a maintenance phone on the wall."

Jason grinned at Marcus. "Told you."

To the group he said, "Excellent. Whoever saw it first, I owe you a pint." There was a soft chuckle from a few people.

Jason pulled the phone out and pushed the call button. Nothing happened so he pushed again and held it. A crackle came to his ear then a voice.

"Bloody hell, mate. Lay off the buzzer, ye git."

"Glad to hear someone," Jason said and held the phone out so everyone could see it. Putting it back to his ear he said, "This is Jason Conner. We were sheltered at Westbourne Park station. A bomb hit and collapsed part of the station. I have a dozen people in the tunnel to the west. We can get out but the others trapped in the station are going to need help."

"Blimey. Sorry to yell at you like that but it's a madhouse here. Westbourne Park station you say?"

"Yes. Westbourne Park. We are in the tunnel heading west. Can you get rescue in from the other side for the trapped people?" Jason said into the phone.

"That east tunnel's been blocked for weeks now. How many people are trapped?"

"Don't know but I think there were about seventy five, maybe more before the ceiling came down." Jason glanced at Marcus with a look that said more than words.  
"We'll send this group on. My friend and I will go back and see if we can move some rocks and do what we can do."

"That's not a smart thing. If the roof gives way while you're messing about, well,  
it'll be a while before we could get to you. I can send a team in from your side. It'll be about an hour or so. Don't do anything stupid before they get there."

"Living in London under the Blitz isn't the smartest thing in the world to be doing in the first place," Jason said and laughed for his audience. There was a faint snort and a giggle from a couple survivors.

"Truer words never been said," the phone said. "I'll see what we can get going from here. Your group might as well head to Notting Hill station. You'll likely meet the rescue team on the way."

"We'll do that. Thanks." Jason put the phone back and turned to the group of dirty, anxious faces.

"The person I talked to said they will send a rescue team in from our tunnel and for us to walk toward Notting Hill station," Jason told them. "My friend and I are going back to see if we can move a few rocks. Maybe we can help a little."

"I'm going with you," the man with the missing wife said.

"To tell the truth, what we need is someone to lead the rest down the tunnel. Feel up to that?" Jason asked him.

"Any hope I have to see Margie again is to be going with you."

They traded gazes a moment and Jason nodded. "Who else can take this group down the tunnel?"

A few minutes later three men were walking back to the collapsed station, not knowing what they could do or what they'd find. But they all knew they had to do something. Two of them idly fingered the wands in their jackets, trying to give a look toward the other in the darkness.

"Should be close now," Jason said, running his hand along the wall. Since it was totally dark he pulled out his wand and touched a nearby stone to transfigure it to an old oil can. "Ah good, there was one," he said.

"I thought I saw this when we started out. Now we'll have light," Jason said. "Tear a bit of cloth from your shirts and we'll need a match."

Three small, smoky bits of fire were on the floor to flicker against the wall of dirt.  
Just enough light to see how impossible the task before them was. Where the station platform used to be was a solid wall of dirt and rock with small pebbles tumbling down the face.

"Well, this is a fine pickle," Jason said. He turned to the man looking for his wife and said, "Name is Jason Conner," and held out his hand.

"Nicholas Wellford," he said and shook.

"Marcus Marchant," Marcus said and shook. "Have to say I should have stayed in Chelsea instead of visiting Jason here today. Where should we start?"

Jason looked around and said, "I'm seeing most of the heavy stuff toward where the stairs were. That means we should stay on the tunnel side of things. Might be looser and smaller stuff on this side. Any thoughts or just go on?"

He got a couple nods so he said, "Bring the oilcan and tear off a few pieces of cloth. If we find a pipe or something we'll have a proper torch. Now, Marcus and I will go up first and see what's up."

Nicholas shook his head. "I'm with you. I'm not hanging around down here.  
Margie's on the other side and I'm going to find her come hell or high water."

Jason and Marcus shrugged and they all scrambled up to the ceiling. There they scraped away at the dirt only to see the rocks were tumbled and jammed together, just as solid a barrier as anywhere else. It looked far beyond impossible now. They traded glances then looked at Nicholas.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to do something we don't want to do, Nicholas,"  
Jason said and Marcus gave him a harsh look.

"You can't, Jason. The Ministry will throw away the key," he whispered.

"In my defense, there are people on the other side of this mess and we must help them," Jason whispered back.

Nicholas came closer and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I said we are going to do something," Jason said. "You will see something you shouldn't. Please don't be afraid. Best just to forget everything. Think only of Margie."

With that he pulled out his wand, pointed and muttered, "Evanesco." There was a dull crack and the first rock disappeared with dirt and pebbles raining down to replace its space.

"Nicholas, would you be so kind as to help muck out?" Jason said.

Nicholas stared at him a moment then at the wand in his hand and back to his face. "Bloody hell. They were just stories. I mean you can't be ..."

"Wizards?" Jason asked and grinned. "Margie is still on the other side. That's what is important right now. If you can ignore what you're seeing we can continue.  
Agreed?"

Nicholas looked again at the two men with sticks in their hands. "You're right.  
Margie's the only thing I am concerned with. I guess I'll be too busy digging to notice anything."

Jason gave him a nod in the flickering light and said, "We'll find her."

His wand pointed to another rock, it crumbled and Nicholas scraped the sand away as fast as he could. They met a pipe and Jason said, "Relashio," pointing his wand and the pipe fractured close to the ceiling. More rocks turned to sand and pebbles, dirt was scraped but it was slow, tedious work.

"I need more light," Jason said and Marcus' wand tip flared brightly.

"That's better but this is going too slow. I'm going to get serious," Jason said. He pointed and muttered, small gobs of dirt and pebbles lifted and he tossed them down.  
More gobs and he got a look of concentration and gave a Defodio spell. This time a small heap of dirt and rock was tossed down the face of the pile. Again then again, over and over until he'd dug a small hole he could fit in between the debris and the tiles of the ceiling.

With a rustle then a dull thump dirt cascaded through the ceiling and the hole he'd gouged out was filled in.

"Damnation and hellfire," Jason muttered darkly. "This is not going to happen,  
not today it isn't."

He pointed his wand at the ceiling. "Duro maxima," and some of the tiles cracked but didn't move. He went back to work on the hole until he was sweating and panting.  
He managed to get the hole opened up only to face a solid wall of stone and dirt.

"Marcus, if you could take over. I need a break," he said and sat back. He gazed at Nicholas and asked, "Doing okay?"

Nicholas tried to put a smile on his dirty face but couldn't make it work. "I'm fine with everything. Margie's waiting for me. I'll help any way I can."

Jason nodded and sat back a little. His hand rested on a piece of pipe and something clicked in his tired brain.

"Oilcan," he said to Nicholas and tore a strip from his shirt. "This should help," he said, took the oilcan from Nicholas, wrapped the oily cloth around the pipe and pointed his wand.

"Incendio," he said and the cloth burst into flame. Nicholas' eyes went wide.

"You know, we could win the war with that wand of yours," he said.

Jason gave him a sorrowful look. "No, we can't. No magical help for a Muggle war. The standing international agreement is if magic is used, that wizard is anathema,  
exiled, hunted down for the bounty along with anyone working with him. Or her, for that matter. We believe it would escalate to annihilation of whole cities. There are far worse things than bombs. Frankly, if the Ministry hears about what we are doing right now we'll face life in prison."

Nicholas was quiet a moment then said, "Pity. But when I think about it your explanation sounds right. I'm only looking for Margie. Nothing else matters to me right now."

Marcus said, "Best move back a little. I'm upping the ante."

Nicholas got a transient look of fear and moved to one side, followed by Jason.

Marcus pointed his wand and said, "Reducto." A chunk of dirt and rock half the size of his body crumbled to sand and pebbles, Nicholas quickly scraping to slide it down the debris pile.

Jason grinned and said, "I never got the hang of that spell," and gave a lumos to his wand

"I'm tempted to use a few stronger curses but I think that's too dangerous.  
Protect yourself," Marcus said and his wand went to work again. Rocks, pipes, wires, it made no difference. All of it turned to dust and sand until he could crawl in the hollow he'd made and work on extending the hole.

It was duro to hold the tunnel he'd made together then reducto and defodio to gouge at the blockage in front of him. It took twenty minutes of hard wand work before he stopped, crawled back and said, "I think we've done it. Bring the torch."

He pushed the smoky oil and pipe torch in front and crawled forward, coughing with the greasy smoke of it. "It's open," he said. "How about you, Nicholas? You go through first. It might be better if you're the one they see."

Nicholas edged past Marcus with the pipe torch and called out. "Hello. Anybody there?"

There were a few voices as they watched him push himself through and slip down the other side.

Jason looked at Marcus and said, "Good work. That reducto really did the trick.  
Now we have to think how to get them out."

Marcus wiped his forehead and said, "Better be by muscle power. One man we can obliviate, a crowd of people not so much."

"We better get down there and see what's what, don't you think?" Jason said.

Marcus held his wand up. "Just let me do a little more here," and pointed to the claustrophobically close ceiling. He muttered, "Duro," several times and sat back.

"Should hold for a little bit. Hope it's enough," he said.

At the bottom of the mass of dirt they found a crowd starting to scramble up the debris so they dug their feet in and helped one person up and into the small tunnel,  
reaching to help haul another person toward safety, directing them to crawl to the other side. They were sweating and dirty, itching from the dirt in their clothing as they got all they could up and through.

From below they heard Nicholas. "All that can walk are up. We have dozen or so with injuries that can't make it on their own. Margie is one of them. She looks bad."

They slid down, saw the injured people and looked at each other then Marcus shrugged. "Lifting charm. Only way. Oh well, they shouldn't remember much anyway.  
Just remember, you started this."

"I'll get some mattresses. Should help sliding them through," Jason said.

"We better hurry. I don't know how long the duro charm will hold and I don't want to leave anyone behind, or worse, have to apparate them out of here. Too many questions might be asked," Marcus said.

They put a person on a mattress, one would point a wand, a swish and flick and up into their tunnel they'd go. Nicholas grunted as he hauled them through to hand them off to the others waiting to slide them down the other side. The tracks where they'd found the phone was soon covered by mattresses with the wounded and broken Londoners that had taken shelter at Westbourne Park station.

"Nicholas, that's all. We're coming up," Jason called out. He took one final look to see a foot sticking out from under the mass of debris and felt ill with helplessness.  
Sometimes it's just too late. The two wizards scrambled and clawed their way up to the rescue hole, fingers and knees bleeding from rocks and shards of tiles and anything else that took to rending clothing and soft skin.

As soon as they got to the tunnel there was a creaking grumble from overhead.  
Marcus shakily said, "Quickly. Duro is failing."

The three of them scrambled as fast as they could, sliding down the far side and crashing onto the railbed. When they turned back, the ceiling gave a sharp, grinding crackle as they hastily moved toward the escape tunnel. Sounded like the whole thing might go.

The ceiling gave way and shot dust and sand out as it collapsed, the weight above heaved debris down on the station to compact the dirt and rocks into an impenetrable mass once again, now just feet from the tunnel. Not much of a station was left at all as they blinked dust from their eyes.

Jason and Marcus nodded tiredly to each other. "Just in time," Jason said. "Great job. It held as long as it needed to."

Nicholas was bending close to his wife stretched out on a dirty mattress, looked up and nodded. "She's still alive but hurt pretty bad. Thank you for what you did. Funny,  
I must have taken a rock to the old noggin because my memory is pretty fuzzy. I can only remember digging my fingers raw. Thanks again for Margie. Anything you can do for her?"

Jason shook his head. "Neither of us has any Healer training." He watched as Nicholas knelt beside his injured wife, holding her hand and gazing at her dirty face.

Marcus turned to Jason to quietly say, "I thought I heard you say there were seventy five. I only saw thirty, maybe thirty five."

Jason shook his head and studied his toes. "You heard right," he said with a terrible sadness in his voice.

Soon there were voices coming from the west, many voices then flashes of light as the rescue party's torches pierced the dusty air of the tunnel. A few minutes later a couple dozen men riding a track push cart came to the mattresses and stopped, staring at the people there.

One man in a warden's hat called out, "Grayson, load up the cart with the most seriously injured. Take who you need to help push. Any less injured need to be packed out so anyone strong enough for stretcher work, pair up. The rest will trade off doing relief every hundred feet. Don't let any stretcher bearer get too tired. Let's move with a purpose."

The warden watched as his team and the survivors set about their duties and started down the west tunnel then turned to Jason and Marcus. "Let's see what happened."

They went up to the mass of debris and the warden frowned. "Anyone else alive?" and got two shaking heads. "Penetration bomb most like. It must have been bad.  
What did you use to clear it? Lifting charm or blasting curse?"

Marcus stared at him a moment and said, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The warden grinned and said, "You should. I connected with a couple bludgers the last match you were in. I can still see the look on your face when I got you the first time. Gryffindor took the game and the cup that year. You Ravenclaws finished second.  
I should hope you remember me. Donel O'Malley."

"Long way from Beater to air raid warden," Jason said with some humor.

"Someone has to do it. How about you tell me what happened here for my report," Donel said. "Then tell me what you really did."

Marcus' face would have shown pain and sorrow if it hadn't been totally covered in dirt and muck as he told of the bomb blast. "Digging was by reducto and duro for the most part. We used mattresses for the injured. Floating charm but they won't remember anything."

"Anyone," and it was obvious what he meant, "see you?"

"The Muggle that helped us dig is all," Jason said. "His wife was badly injured.  
After we got her safely to this side he said he must have taken a rock to the head.  
Something about a fuzzy memory. Can't seem to remember a thing except digging."

Donel gave them a hard look then let out a sigh. "Times like these try the soul so we must do what we must do. Have to confess I've pulled a few people out from under their houses myself. Don't get caught. Best I can say is three brave but foolhardy men somehow managed to dig a tiny tunnel and everyone left alive got out before it all collapsed. My report will only have to go to London, no one else need know about this if it never concerns them. Don't ever give reason for that story to change. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes sir," Jason said.

"Good enough," Donel said. "I'm glad I won't be the one having to dig out the bodies. It's a detestable job. Now, let's get out of this horrible place. If there's a pub nearby I could use a pint. How about you?"

"Pint or three sounds good," Marcus said. "Along with a plate of chips covered in gravy. I don't think I've ever done that much wand work in my whole life. I'm buying tonight."

Donel chuckled and said, "I cannot accept gratuities of any kind while in uniform.  
However, a good dinner and a few at the Leaky Cauldron one day would be quite acceptable. We can trade tales of violating the Statute to save lives."

Two weeks later Jason Conner was behind the counter when he saw Nicholas come in. He grinned then frowned. How had he found him? Was he going to talk about that night at Westbourne Park? Was he going to have to obliviate him? Had the Ministry heard something? He touched his fingers to his wand.

"Mister Conner," Nicholas said, "I heard you sell a good barley bread. Would you have any available?"

"If you have a ration card for it," Jason replied automatically.

"I do," Nicholas said and pulled his book out with bandaged fingers. "My wife was injured a couple weeks ago so I have extra rations for a month to help her recover."

Trying to make out where this was heading Jason said, "In that case I have a particularly good loaf for you two. I might even be able to find a few sweet rolls to help your wife's recovery."

"I would be in your debt forever and a day for that," Nicholas said. "She had several broken ribs, a punctured lung and sprained her left shoulder quite badly but she's recovering well. I heard there were two brave men that got her out after the station collapsed. I'm afraid I don't remember much though I was told I helped with some digging or such like. Funny how your memory blanks out with a concussion."

He grinned and said, "I sure would like to give my heartfelt thanks for what they did for her. The wardens said it took three days to dig the station out. She would not have made it that long. I owe them for her life and I'll never forget that, at least if my addled brain can remember proper like. Still pretty fuzzy on what happened that night,  
what with the bombing and all. You understand how things like that can be."

Jason smiled. "Yes, funny how things work sometimes." He lifted a loaf from the glass case and wrapped it in newsprint. Another case held the sweet rolls, a precious wartime economy treat.

"With my compliments and best wishes for your wife's health," Jason said as he handed half a dozen over. "If you find them not to your liking a good trade might help with medical supplies or whatever."

"Your are most kind, my good man." Nicholas said. "If you ever need anything,  
anything at all, please give me a call. For these wonderful sweets, of course. And if you ever hear of who those two honorable men were, tell them I'll never be able to thank them enough for my Margie's life. Mine too, I suppose. I might have wandered those tunnels for days before I got out what with a scrambled melon on my shoulders like it was. Least that's what the air raid warden told me. Thanks again for these lovely rolls and everything else."

"You are most welcome," Jason said. "May you two have a fulfilling life and many children."

"Thanks for the good wishes," Nicholas said with a wide smile. "The same to you and yours. Good to meet you sir. I'll recommend your trade to my friends."

With that he gave another smile, a knowing smile, and with the smallest gesture of a wink turned with his baked goods under one arm and strode out of the shop.

Jason chuckled quietly for a bit and felt good down to his toes. "Wait until Marcus hears this one," he said to himself.

Head cannon goes off. A smoldering sign flutters in the air saying: Please review.  
Thanks to Geoff and Vicky too.


End file.
